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“ The next, with dirges due, in sad array,

Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne.

Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay,

Grav'd on the stone beneath yon aged thorn."


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Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth,

A youth, to fortune and to fame unknown;

Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth,

And Melancholy mark'd him for her own.

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