His Epitaph

Tread softly, ye that pass, for here The old man rests his head, And sleeps the sleep that all men must Among the honoured dead. Meleager, son of Eucrates, Who linked the joyous train Of Graces and of Muses With love's delicious pain. From Gadara, the sacred land, I came and god-built Tyre, But Meropis and pleasant Cos Consoled life's waning fire. If thou be Syrian, say Salaam, Or Hail, if Greek thou be, Say Naidios, if Phœnician born, For all are one to me.