When to their airy hall my father's voice
Shall call my spirit, joyful in their choice;
When, poised upon the gale, my form shall ride,
Or, dark in mist, descend the mountain's side;
Oh ! may my shade behold no sculptured urns
To mark the spot where earth to earth returns ;
No lengthened scroll, no praise-encumbered stone;
My epitaph shall be-my name alone:
If that with honour fail to crown my clay,
Oh! may no other fame my deeds repay :
That, only that, shall single out the spot;
By that remembered, or with that forgot.
JAMES ROBINS AND CO. IVY LANE, PATERNOSTER ROW;
AND JOSEPH ROBINS, JUN. AND CO. LOWER