In Memory Of Edward Quillinan

I saw him sensitive in frame, I knew his spirits low; And wish'd him health, success, and fame-- I do not wish it now.

For these are all their own reward, And leave no good behind; They try us, oftenest make us hard, Less modest, pure, and kind.

Alas! yet to the suffering man, In this his mortal state, Friends could not give what fortune can-- Health, ease, a heart elate.

But he is now by fortune foil'd No more; and we retain The memory of a man unspoil'd, Sweet, generous, and humane--

With all the fortunate have not, With gentle voice and brow. --Alive, we would have changed his lot, We would not change it now.