Epitaph On a Friend

Oh! friend! for ever lov'd for ever dear!
What fruitless tears have bath'd thy honour'd bier!
What sighs re-echo'd to thy parting breath,
While thou wast struggling in the pangs of death!
Could tears retard the tyrant in his course;
Could sighs avert his dart's relentless force;
Could youth and virtue claim a short delay,
Or beauty charm the spectre from his prey;
Thou still had'st lived, to bless my aching sight,
Thy comrade's honour, and thy friend's delight,
If, yet, thy gentle spirit hover nigh
The spot, where now thy mould'ring ashes lie,
Here, wilt thou read, recorded on my heart,
A grief too deep to trust the sculptor's art.
No marble marks thy couch of lowly sleep,
But living statues, there, are seen to weep;
Affliction's semblance bends not o'er thy tomb,
Affliction's self deplores thy youthful doom.
What though thy sire lament his failing line.
A father's sorrows cannot equal mine!
Though none, like thee, his dying hour will cheer,
Yet other offspring soothe his anguish here:
But. who with me shall hold thy former place ?
Thine image, what new friendship can efface ?
Ah! none! a father's tears will cease to flow,
Time will assuage an infant brother's woe;
To all. save one, is consolation known,
While solitary friendship sighs alone