The Epitaph

By Fate's stern hand untimely snatch'd away, Does this deep vaulted cave a youth unfold: He gave to solitude the studious day, And pity fram'd his bosom of her mould.

With lyre devoted to companion's ear, Did he bewail the vestal's hapless doom; Oft has this marble catch'd his falling tear, And for that gen'rous tear he gain'd a tomb.