EPITAPH
ON
A
SCHOOLFELLOW
.
BY
THE
SAME
.
LOV'D
BANKS
,
for
thee
I
heave
the
frequent
sigh
,
For
thee
the
solemn
tear
bedews
mine
eye
;
No
more
thy
converse
blythe
shall
cheer
my
day
,
Or
chase
the
gloom
of
anxious
thought
away
.
And
art
thou
,
dear
associate
!
art
thou
gone
?
Long
must
thy
friend
his
sudden
loss
bemoan
;
O'er
the
cold
turf
where
thy
pale
reliques
sleep
,
Shall
fond
Remembrance
oft
repair
to
weep
.